It Is Most Fortunate
by Belen09
Summary: It is most fortunate that I no longer write poetry like e.mmings (a favorite as a teen with no regard to grammar); but then these are hardly Shakespeare either - some Enterprise-related drabbles previously published elsewhere. One chapter per drabble . . .
1. Chapter 1

OOOOO

A.N. I don't own anything to do with Star Trek, though in fairness, I have had dreams . . . don't own any other published author either . . . or any unpublished, except myself . . .

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A Dream Within A Dream

(Reference: 'A Dream Within A Dream' – Edgar Allan Poe – second stanza

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand –

How few! Yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep – while I weep!

O God! Can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! Can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?')

OOOOO

Part of Lieutenant Malcolm Reed's mind had decided in a peculiar way that Trip and he had must have made love the previous evening, or at least the last time they were in bed together. The unusual part was that it felt like the memory was wrapped in cotton wool – that for some reason he couldn't actually remember the touch of Trip's hands upon his body . . . the caress of lips upon his face. He did remember saying, "I love you," just before he fell asleep. Would have to remedy that the next time they made love.

'No wait . . . it was by happenstance that I was in the Armory', he managed to think, 'when the Bridge was destroyed . . .' Un-spoken, and mostly un-thought, Malcolm knew that Engineering was gone too; and that he had set the remaining ordnance to auto-destruct after the Xindi had boarded the ship. And with the remaining sensors he saw that they were approaching the detonation point . . .

He had disabled the blast shields in the area; the full force of the weapons would rake any vessel within reach. A pity that it wouldn't save Earth – 'But one can only do what one can do.' A last moment of regret . . .

OOOOO

Malcolm Reed stood at the edge of a great ocean . . . he felt the warmth of the sun, and saw the fluffy white clouds float with deliberate motion across the sky. The waves crashed with predictable motion – 'This is lovely,' he realized, and let his eyes drift down the beach . . .

With pleasure he saw the approach of a familiar face, noted the outrageous hues of his love's shirt – 'Were there even colors in the known universe to encompass that?' Felt the caress of the wind against his face, then the so-solid brush of skin and the remembered smell, taste . . . and finally to hear, "Darlin', I've missed you."

Then Malcolm thought or even mayhap actually said, "If this be a dream then I don't want to wake up . . ." Perhaps life and death are but a dream within a dream. One can only hope. One can only hope.

OOOOO


	2. Chapter 2

I chapter2

See above

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Falling For You

Summary: Trip's in Sickbay after an accident in Engineering, and Malcolm comes by to hear his version of the events.

A.N. Okay this is a short, short story – based on an actual incident . . .

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Trip's POV –

Well, I ended up in Sickbay, with Phlox checking to see that I didn't do any more damage than a couple of sprains – my knee and my arm, a bump on my head, and a bad scrape on my calf. Oh, and the two times I got shocked.

The doc's giving me a full body scan, as if he couldn't believe that everything thing is okay. I really don't blame him 'cause it takes talent to mess myself up so thoroughly. Hey – I didn't do it on purpose – it just sort of happened.

Okay. It happens a lot. Sometimes I'm an accident waiting to happen.

OOOOO

Oh, oh! Malcolm just came into Sickbay, and he's got his arms crossed and a 'pissed off' look on his face. Jeez, he's gonna do that foot-stompin' thing, I just know it. He opens his mouth to speak, and I hear a very cold and polite British accent, "Commander, I 'heard' from some of your staff, that you would be in here."

I give him a goofy smile, "Hi, Malcolm. Oh, it ain't nothing, honest. I'm just kina sore, that's all." Except that Phlox gives me a look too, a very skeptical look, but thank God he doesn't say anything.

It's no surprise that he doesn't buy it. "Actually, I was given to understand that, your staff would like a copy of the security camera tape, since the 'accident' was quite entertaining. I have not looked at the tape, but I thought I might ask you what happened first, before I review the incident."

Okay, so he isn't stomping his feet, but he is doing that finger taping thing on his arms. Don't even know if he is aware that he does it, but it usually means that I better handle this really carefully, else he will be 'not happy'. (I've seen him do that when he's been disciplining a wayward crewmember; if I got any sense, I better stick to the facts.)

"Uh, well, you know that new plasma converter that we are installing . . ."

OOOOO

The new plasma converter is really a beautiful piece of machinery, and I am eager to get the sweet thing installed – really, really eager.

Except that it is large enough that it needs a pit in the deck to be seated properly. The hole is like a cube, a meter and a half on each side. My crew does a bang up job on it, and it looks to be a real clean installation. No rough edges on my ship.

The power conduit for the converter is located above the right side of the hole, and I have to use a ladder to reach the framework. I'm on the ladder, checking the power output when, dammit! I get shocked, and fall off the ladder, and land on the deck next to the hole. (Found out later that there was a cross wired junction, but I didn't know that at the time.)

Now this is where 'things' started to go wrong . . .

I know that I shoulda checked 'why' I got shocked. Instead I got pissed. 'How dare my ship, my engine room shock me!' (My dad told me once, You gotta quit when you are ahead.') Of course, I wasn't gonna tell Malcolm any of this . . . I just said I was confused.

So I dusted myself off, and went back up the ladder determined to get the best of the situation. I can handle this! Sure . . .

It happened again, another shock. And again, I fell off the ladder. I landed again back on the deck, except this time I bounced, rolled right into the hole. Ouch!

At this point some sense much have got knocked into my head because I clawed my way to stand in the hole, and was greeted by several members of my crew who said, "You alright, Commander?" I swear some of them were having a hard time not laughing, especially since they saw that I wasn't really hurt.

I accepted their help getting out of the hole, then looked at the ladder again. Decided not to go back up, and said to no one and everyone – "Will someone find out why there is a live current in that conduit?" Then I made my way down to Sickbay.

OOOOO

The last part of my story – I was looking at the deck as I was speaking – not at Malcolm's face. So when I did look at my darlin', I was surprised to see him staring at the upper bulkhead, kina like he was imploring some God or something to protect wayward engineers.

I pushed my luck a little too far, and said, "Well, I coulda been daydreamin' about a certain British armory officer . . ."

"Mr. Tucker," came the sarcastic reply, "You are so 'full of it' that I am surprised that you didn't drown at the bottom of that hole. Quit while you are ahead, love." And he walked over and kissed me right in front of Phlox. Sometimes I can't figure him out . . .

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	3. Chapter 3

It was most Chapter 3

See above

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It Occurred

It occurred to Malcolm Reed as he stood wiping the mist from his mirror in his lavatory,

So that he could shave because 'an officer at his best should be well-groomed', that

His father, who he wished to please but could not 'in conscience';

That his father, 'military man' – had never killed anyone. Whereas, he –

High ideals and all – had killed . . .

'Well father,' he thought, 'another thing that I will never discuss with you . . .'

Circumstances play havoc with intent.

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A.N. Well, this is an AU, because he is normally an 'armory officer' . . .


	4. Chapter 4

It Is M F chapter 4

See above

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A.N. Set in the Xindi arc . . .

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Center

Growing up he felt the outsider, unusual interests – unusual hobbies, often ill, often ignored . . .

Until that fateful day when he refused to acquiesce to their wishes . . .

Not quite knowing how to be his own – to demand his way in life.

And found that even the brightest places have dark corners . . .

A miracle – he managed to escape through his ability with weapons, tactics – still an outlier . . .

He demanded excellence from himself, and others – and was rewarded for his service.

'Perhaps', a voice said, I will find companionship – even love . . .

And found that nothing is guaranteed in this life.

Now they are in this Hell called the Expanse – to exact vengeance, a terrible price to pay . . .

By their foes, by themselves. All seemingly altered by their quest, by their mission.

'I must remain true to my beliefs, my goals, my honor – become the center.'

If the center does not hold, all will fail . . .

OOOOO


	5. Chapter 5

It Was MF chapter five

See above

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All Reason Fled

A.N. Dammit, the prize turkey was alive and kicking and it decided that I was the easiest way out. I backed up really quickly – it was so 'funny'.

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Lieutenant Malcolm Reed stood on the path, pleased that he managed to avoid standing in the 'pen' with the large bird-like creatures that the aliens were showing both Captain Archer and Commander Tucker. Apparently these animals were to be served for dinner tonight, and the hosts of the event wanted to show the guests how the beasts were raised. Malcolm guessed that the wild versions of the creatures were much skinner, and he could see where animal husbandry had improved the stock.

Then several unfortunate, unexpected things happened. First, the 'birds' (using their limited intelligence) finally discerned that the two humans in their pen were not normal visitors; second, they started making a noise not unlike a massive raspberry. And finally, a certain chief of security – lieutenant by rank, began to laugh and made a raspberry sound back. It was really an automatic reaction – no harm intended . . . a bit of humor.

This got the attention of the creatures and they rushed toward the area of the fence where Malcolm was standing, causing the fence to collapse. He backed up in a rush, falling over his feet, and got trampled by the large flightless 'birds'. They fled into the adjacent field, leaving an embarrassed, excrement and feather-covered Starfleet officer. 'Oh bloody Hell,' he gasped.

It took several showers to rid his memory of the smell. Now if he could just rid his mind of the memory of his two superior officers laughing . . .

OOOOO


	6. Chapter 6

It Is Most F chapter 6

See above

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Glad Some One Was Thinking; Too Bad It Wasn't Me

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His first thought, when Malcolm realized that he was locked out of the cottage, was that Trip was not going to let him forget, and would be reminding him about his gaffe for a very long time. Not to mention that all he was wearing was some underwear that left nothing 'to wonder about' – nothing at all . . .

Looked down at his pale skin and saw 'beet red' from blushing. 'Certainly. I will just go up to the landlord and explain how an experienced Starfleet officer and specimen of humanity got locked outside practically stark nude . . .'

'Bloody silly git. Bloody fucking silly paranoid git.' He'd gone outside to kiss Trip goodbye for the day (he had meetings to attend – security not needed) and the door inadvertently closed. While Trip never would have locked the door, it being out 'in the woods' and all; but yours truly, Malcolm Reed – security officer – 'professional security officer' – even had a 'pin' to prove it, just had to lock doors when they could be locked. Locks must be there for a reason, right?

Pondered the idea of having to wait hours before Trip came back, and the embarrassment.

And didn't like it, not at all.

'I wonder if one of the downstairs' windows is open? Worth checking.'

Walked to the back deck area, unfortunately next to the road. 'Oh this should be nice – passersby will get a fine view! But it can't be helped. (Trip once told me that I was very good at 'bowing to the inevitable.' Snarky bastard . . . just because I don't have an iron rod up my arse like my father . . .)

'Oh! There is an open window! Thank God!

'Well . . . maybe not so fine. This building was constructed by 'stalwart beings' of at least a half meter taller than I, and I need to find something to stand on in order to get inside. Christ, nothing available except this bucket full of sharp gardening tools . . .

'Okay. Empty bucket. Turn upside down, and stand on bucket. So far, so good. Raise window. Damn this thing is both stuck and heavy . . .'

Attempt to go through window while holding it open. I realize that 'attempt' is the operative word. Bucket is unstable, and tips over as I am standing on it . . .

I start to fall. If I continue on this trajectory I will land on a pile of 'sharp gardening tools' that I so neatly placed on the deck.

Since I have an aversion to bleeding from the impact of sharp objects, I pull my leg in an awkward direction and roll, landing flat on my back on the deck. I hold my breath for a moment, making an assessment of my physical state. 'Okay, Malcolm,' I remark to myself, 'perhaps not the most smooth move that you have ever done, but given the options . . .'

I'm lying on the deck with nothing hurting but my knee; of course, I still have a remarkable lack of clothing . . .

Suddenly a big, furry dog-like creature comes close and I sense that she is staring at me. Since I have become fast friends with the being during the three weeks that we have been on this planet, and staying at this house, I am not alarmed. Rather her presence is comforting. She is wondering what the strange alien is doing. I close my eyes.

I hear sounds of sniffing, and gentle puffs of air, and soft fur against my skin. She is checking in her own 'canine' manner that I am not bleeding, and I am not. Sits by my head waiting for this unusual friend (namely me) to get up and 'do' something. (Some nights when Trip is asleep and I can't, because I don't relax well – too much thought? – I go outside and sit on the deck and she comes up and rests her head on my knee. Oddly it is the same knee that I have twisted . . .)

It occurs to me at that moment that just inside the window are my trousers that I had worn the previous night. I had hung them on a hook whilst undressing – an unusual action which at the time made me believe that I had 'gone native'; but I dismissed it as obsessive. It is sloppy of me, but all I have to do now is to open the window (again!) and remove said trousers and key.

Which I do – unlock door – get fully dressed - and then come back outside with a treat for 'nurse dog' and myself. She was definitely using her 'grey matter', and being the perfect confidant she wouldn't tell Trip.

OOOOO


	7. Chapter 7

It Is Most Fortunate Chapter Seven

See Above

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A.N. If I am not careful, this note will be longer than the two short following 'poems' . . .

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My Golden Boy (T/R)

He is my golden boy.

The sun warms his skin; tans him beautifully.

My greedy eyes watch him move, devouring his form.

The sun tries to outshine him, glinting off the waves.

It fails for he is the only one alive for me.

My golden Trip.

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No Other Question (A Malcolm Drabble)

My counselor has learned many things about me.

Why I am afraid to trust – others, myself – though

I try so hard to be trustworthy for others.

To show my love through service, to honor life.

One day I will ask my Maker, "Have I done good?"

There is no other question.

OOOOO


End file.
